Last Time in Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged:
A day this bad calls for comfort food, and that means squirrel stew. My mother used to make it whenever she had a bad patient or my father had a bad day in the mines. I've come to associate it with home and family—two things that are under threat right now—and I know Prim feels the same way. I can't give her much comfort right now, but I can at least do this. The familiar rhythm of chopping up meat and vegetables distracts me from the awkward silence and what promises to be an even more awkward conversation to come.
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Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged
by RoseFyre & FanficAllergy
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Chapter Twenty-Nine: Opened Our Hearts More
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"I believe much trouble would be saved if we opened our hearts more."
― Chief Joseph
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Peeta returns with Chet and Jacintha when the stew is just starting to come to a simmer. That's fine. I can talk to them while I'm cooking. If they have a problem with it, that's on them.
My eyes fly to Chet and Jacintha's faces as they enter the house. Chet appears mostly curious with a hint of concern while my cousin's eyes are wary, almost nervous, like she's walking into a trap and is just waiting for it to snap closed. She's got to be eight months pregnant, which explains why they took a while getting here. At least, I hope that's the reason. The only other reason I can think of is that it took that long for Peeta to persuade Jacintha to even come here.
Once Peeta makes the introductions, Jacintha wastes no time in getting down to business. "Not that I don't love meeting surprise family members, but what are we doing here?" And from her tone, I can tell that she doesn't want to be here.
"It's an absolute joy to meet you too," I reply, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. "It's my most sincere pleasure to inform you that my mother has passed from this earth."
All color drains from my cousin's cheeks, and she stands stock still like a tribute on Reaping Day. She clutches her stomach and leans heavily on the counter beside her, her eyes wide as she stares at me.
It's not the reaction I expected.
"Cin," Chet says, "are you okay?"
He reaches out for her, but she waves him away. Instead she crosses the room to the table and takes the seat I once occupied next to my tear-flavored tea. Almost without thinking, she picks up the mug and takes a sip, then grimaces at it before putting it down and pushing it away from her.
"Cin?"
"I'm fine. I'm… fine." She takes a moment to gather herself, and her face hardens. "Is that it?" she asks, her voice cool.
I don't understand her reaction, and my eyes fly to Peeta, looking for an explanation. He seems as confused as I am. I don't know what to say, so I plead with Peeta silently for him to take the lead.
Thankfully, he does. "We need you to take in the Everdeens for a couple of days. Just until Monday, when the contract office opens."
"No," Jacintha says with finality.
"But why?" I burst out. "Why won't you even consider it?"
Her dark blue eyes—the same color as Prim's and my mother's—turn toward me. "Because there's nothing to consider."
Darius frowns. "Are you saying that you aren't willing to help your family?"
Jacintha shakes her head. "That's not what I'm saying at all."
"Then what are you saying?"
My cousin ignores the question, her eyes landing back on me. "Just what exactly do you need?"
"We told you, we need you to take us in."
"And I told you that's not possible."
"But why?" I finally ask.
"My father will kill you," she says blandly. Like she was discussing the weather. The clouds are up; the sky is blue; Snow is the president; my father will kill you.
Darius blinks. "That… seems like an extreme statement to make."
"Extreme," she acknowledges, "but true. My cousins cannot live with my parents. They will not be safe under their roof."
"But if we don't stay with you, we'll end up in the Community Home, and Aven…" I can't bring myself to say it.
Jacintha raises an eyebrow. "Better the Community Home than dead."
"How can you be so sure?" Peeta asks.
My cousin just shrugs and shakes her head. She's not going to elaborate more.
Peeta turns to Chet.
His brother sighs and says, "My father-in-law is not a kind man." He looks at his brother. "You remember Grandfather McCoy?"
Peeta nods.
"Morris Eiken is about a hundred times worse." His smile goes wry at Peeta's shudder. "Yeah. That bad. And Imogen just feeds his anger and resentment," he says, referring to my aunt.
"Can someone explain to me what this means?" Darius asks. "Assume I'm not up on all of the intra-Twelve gossip. Because I'm not."
"Our grandfather was a hard man. A mean man," Chet says softly. "Nothing was ever good enough for him. It didn't matter that he was one of the wealthiest Merchants in town. If someone else had anything even slightly newer or better or more than him, it filled him with absolute rage. And when his rage boiled over, he'd take out his anger with his fists." His fingers twitch like he wants to wring them. "I was three the first time he bent me over his knee. I'd knocked over something—an empty bottle I think—and he beat me for being clumsy."
Peeta picks up the thread, "I don't know if you know, but our mother was engaged to Rooba's husband, the butcher's heir, Barty Gibbs." He glances at Darius. "You probably don't remember him; he died about eight years ago when measles swept through the town."
Darius shakes his head. "That was before my time."
"I thought so," Peeta says before continuing with his story, "So back when my mom and Barty Gibbs got engaged, it was a big deal. The butcher was going to get the meat, and the furrier—Grandfather McCoy—was going to get the skin. It would've been a lucrative arrangement. But my mother didn't want that. Barty was one of my grandfather's cronies, and he was friends with your uncle. He liked to pick on people that he saw as inferior. And he saw most people as inferior." Peeta takes a deep breath then glances up at the ceiling as if trying to remember everything. "Barty didn't particularly like my mom, but the papers had been signed, and so short of a breach of contract, there was nothing he could do to get out of the arrangement. But Mom could do something. And she did."
"What'd she do?" Darius asks.
I want to know too, so I pause in my stirring to listen. This is new information to me. I knew parts of it; in a district as small as Twelve, everyone knows everyone else. But I didn't know this level of detail. I just knew what bits filtered up to the Seam or through the whispers in the school hallways.
Peeta doesn't say anything. Instead he just glances at Chet, who closes his eyes for a second before saying, "She got pregnant. Hell, I think she slept with every eligible Merchant and a few ineligible ones. Because it was about the only thing she could do to break the arrangement. Our grandfather threw her out on the street when he found out, and our father took her in. I don't know if they fell in love before or after they got married, but I was born three months after the wedding."
"I thought your parents' marriage was arranged," Jacintha says, her brow furrowed. I'm certain that's not the only question she wants to ask, but this is probably the only one she can ask considering the present company.
But Chet doesn't answer, his eyes flicking toward Darius and me before looking away.
"That's the official story," Peeta says eventually. "The real story is… not as nice."
Another awkward silence descends, but at least this time, I'm not at the center of it. And as much as I want to know who impregnated the baker's wife before she married the baker, it's not a question I'm willing to ask. We all have our secrets in Panem. Some apparently bigger than others. Jacintha's fingers tap on the table while Chet's hands do that wringing motion again. They stare at each other in silence.
That's going to be an uncomfortable conversation once they're alone.
Darius breaks the silence. "So I get it. Your grandfather's a piece of shit. What does this have to do with why Katniss and her family can't stay with you?"
"My father blames his sister"—she looks at me—"your mother—for everything that goes wrong. If a batch of herbs is too weak or goes bad, it's your mother's fault. The fact I wasn't born a boy is your mother's fault. The fact that they couldn't have any more children is your mother's fault. Everything, and I do mean everything, that's happened to us is your mother's fault—at least in my father's eyes. And that hatred extends to you," she says, staring at me intently.
"But what'd I do to him?"
"You exist."
I shake my head. "It doesn't make any sense."
Jacintha shrugs. "Hatred never does."
"So you're saying you can't help us," Peeta says, his voice carefully neutral.
"That's not what I'm saying. You're not listening. I'll help you if I can, but there's no way you can stay with us in the Apothecary."
At my cousin's words, my knees give out and I slip to the floor. I'm out of options. This was my last hope.
Around me, I can hear everyone talking. Jacintha's explaining something about my mother and her first husband. My mother had a first husband? Since when? None of it makes sense. Nothing makes sense anymore. My world has been upended, and everything's being washed away. I feel like those tributes in the 70th Games, the one where the dam broke, and I'm not sure I can tread water anymore.
"Okay, everyone, stop!" Peeta says, throwing his hands up, his voice breaking through the creeping gloom that's threatening to overwhelm me. "I understand that Katniss and her family can't stay with you, that your parents won't let it happen, that there's bad blood and history that makes it impossible." He turns to Darius. "Would it be okay if Chet and Jacintha stayed here?"
Darius considers it, really considers it. "I'm not sure. Convince me. Pretend I'm Cray."
It's a good suggestion. Darius isn't the one we need to convince; he's on our side. The Head Peacekeeper is the final authority here in Twelve.
Peeta nods. "Okay, so we know that Katniss, Prim, and most particularly Aven, need to have a roof over their heads, and a responsible adult with property has to be present in said domicile. Correct?"
"Correct."
"Does the responsible adult have to be the owner of the roof in question?" Peeta asks.
Darius digs into his uniform and pulls out a slim book which he starts flipping through. His lips are pursed, his eyes narrow as he reads one page a few times. For several long moments, he doesn't say anything. "I don't see anything in the regs that would prohibit it."
"Great." Peeta lets out a little sigh. "Okay, so you said that the Capitol would want the home back, correct?"
"Yes."
"But that they'd give Katniss and her family a week to get their belongings situated, right?" Peeta asks, his eyes intent.
Darius nods. "Right."
"That means that they technically could stay in this house for that week."
"So long as there's an adult family member present, I don't see why there'd be a problem."
A wide grin spreads over Peeta's face, and he turns to Jacintha and Chet. "Would one of you be willing to be an adult family member and stay here?"
"Of course," Chet agrees.
While at the same time, Jacintha says, "We'd have to negotiate some things first."
My heart rises and plummets in the same breath.
Before I can even say anything, Chet turns to his wife. "Negotiate what? They're family!"
Jacintha looks at him, her face carefully composed. "They are. But so is my father. And he's going to see it as a betrayal if we stay here. He might take his anger out on us." She places her hands over her stomach. "On all of us. And as much as the Everdeens are family, I'm going to look out for our"—she stresses the word—"family first."
"That's entirely fair," Darius says, understanding dawning in his eyes. "We're not asking you to stay here permanently. Although I suppose you could. You do qualify for government-supplied housing as a married couple. But that office is also closed until Monday."
Jacintha glances around our combination kitchen/living space/eating space with a little wrinkle of her nose. "I think my current living situation is adequate."
I want to wipe that sneer off of my cousin's face. I know our house is small, only two rooms with an outhouse instead of indoor plumbing like they have in town. But it was a house filled with love and joy and good memories. Something I don't think my cousin can claim.
"What kind of things do we need to negotiate?" Peeta asks, bringing the conversation back on track.
"You don't need to all look at me like I'm the villain here. I'm not," Jacintha states, her tone hard. "There's something that you need to understand. If it were just up to me, I would let the Everdeens live with me for as long as they need. I'm not the problem here. I'm just the one who has to tell it like it is." She seems to be affronted that we're all ganging up on her.
"So help us!" I say, getting fed up with all of her Capitol-like speak.
"I want to. The issue is my parents. You and your siblings can't live with us because of my parents, but by the same token, I can't just up and leave. Do you understand?"
I shake my head.
She rolls her eyes. "Stars, you're dense," she says, and I can't really disagree with her. She sighs and tries to explain. "My father is not a nice man. I think we've established that. He's not going to let me help you without causing a big stink. Same goes for Chet. It's the kind of stink that might lead to Chet and me becoming homeless." She pauses. "Or worse. And that's something I simply can't risk. My father would rather burn the Apothecary to the ground than help you." She stares at me pointedly, as if trying to communicate something to me.
I have no idea what.
"So what you're saying is you need an excuse," Darius says slowly.
"That is exactly what I'm saying," she says with some relief. "And it needs to be an excuse that will stand up to the scrutiny that I'm certain my father will put on it."
"Which is how much?" Peeta wants to know.
Jacintha shrugs. "It depends on how plausible the excuse is, I suppose."
"Could you be taking care of a sick friend?"
"He'd want to know who," she says quickly. "Besides, my mother knows all of my friends. If one of my friends were sick, my mother would likely know about it before I did."
"So… not a sick friend."
"But taking care of someone sick would work," Chet says slowly, warming to the subject. "Remember that one time when you were asked to take care of the Mayor's wife for a few days?"
"I do," she says with a nod. "But I got paid for it, if you recall."
"Isn't Haymitch sick?" Darius asks me.
"Yeah." It's the reason I can't ask him for help.
"I thought so." He flashes me a small smile before addressing my cousin, "Would it make sense for Haymitch's housekeeper to hire the Apothecary's heir to take care of him while he's sick?"
A slight flinch flitters across Jacintha's features before she says, "It's plausible. And, as much as my father hates you, he's not willing to piss off the Capitol or our only Victor by refusing to do business with Haymitch just because he employs you."
"Even better," Darius says, rising to his feet to pace around the room, "there's no reason for your father to check in with Haymitch to confirm the story."
"True."
Darius turns back to me. "How likely is it, do you think, that Haymitch is going to head to the Hob? Or really, be seen in town?"
I think about it. "I laid in a large supply of white liquor and food for him. He's got no reason to go to the Hob until next week at the earliest. There's no way he could drink that much booze." I pause for a moment. "I hope."
"So that's it. That's our answer!" He stops pacing to stand in front of Jacintha. "You'll say that you're taking care of Haymitch, and instead you'll be here."
"Wouldn't Chet make more sense?" Peeta asks.
Both Jacintha and Chet shake their heads, but Jacintha's the one who replies, saying, "Chet doesn't know herbs and healing like I do. He pretty much just runs the register and occasionally mixes up remedies based off of a recipe that my father or I have provided. If he took this assignment, my father would want to know why."
Another problem presents itself. "Wouldn't your father try to get this assignment?" I want to know.
"He would," she admits, then smiles. "Except I have the perfect excuse already: you don't trust him."
"But I trust you?" I don't, and she knows it.
"You trust me more than you trust my father. So he'll believe it." Jacintha shrugs. "I know how to handle my father. And any insult perceived won't matter if I'm paid enough."
"Paid? But we don't have any money." I'm not about to tell her that we probably do have the money. That's our nest egg, what we need to live on if Haymitch fires me. I'm not about to give it to my cousin when she's essentially blackmailing us.
The look Jacintha gives me says, 'Do you really expect me to believe that?'
I cross my arms over my chest and glare back. Yes. I do expect her to believe that. No one in the Seam has money. That's one way I definitely don't want to stand out.
Silence stretches out between us, becoming more fraught with each passing second.
Eventually Darius breaks it. "How much would make your father happy?"
"Fifty coin," Jacintha says without any hesitation.
Fifty coin! That's how much I make in a week. I'm not about to give my cousin a week's wages for letting her have a vacation from her parents' house for two days. "Five coin," I counter before one of the boys can say something.
Darius stares at me. "Are you seriously bargaining over this?"
I glare at him. "Of course I am! Fifty coin is outrageous. Why, I bet they don't make fifty coin a week at the Apothecary!"
Jacintha shrugs again; it seems to be her go-to expression and it's starting to annoy me. "We might, we might not. But do you really think five coin is going to be enough to keep my father happy? Forty coin. You know Haymitch can afford it."
"Yes, but Haymitch isn't the one who's paying you. I am. Ten coin."
"True. But can't you just take it from his funds later? He seems to like you well enough. So I couldn't possibly go any lower than thirty five."
"That'd be stealing, and stealing is a Capitol offense." I motion to Darius who's standing right next to her chair. "I can't believe you suggested that, and in front of a Peacekeeper, no less! Fifteen."
A hint of a smile flits across my cousin's lips. "True. And looking around, I can see that your circumstances are quite… depressed." She pauses for a second. "But not that depressed. You're telling me that you haven't saved any money for an emergency. That seems quite short-sighted, and let me pay you the compliment that I don't believe you're that short-sighted. Thirty."
"You're not wrong that I have saved for an emergency situation, but as both Peacekeeper Freeman here and your brother-in-law"—I point at Peeta—"can attest, this is not the first emergency I've had to deal with this year. Or even the second. Why, I had to replace every single window in this room just recently when some vandals threw bricks and bottles filled with urine into here. Urine and glass, which spoiled all of our food." I'm exaggerating, but not by much. "Plus, this winter has been exceptionally harsh. And since my father's death, I can no longer buy fuel at a discounted rate. I'm paying as much for coal as any Merchant. I no sooner get paid than the money is spoken for." It's not that far from the truth. If Haymitch hadn't raised my wages, my nest egg would be substantially smaller. "I really can only bring myself to pay you twenty coin."
"Is this true?" Jacintha's eyes leave mine to meet Darius's.
"As far as I'm aware, it is. I can vouch for the vandalism and can state that we're still running tests to hunt down the perpetrators."
Jacintha nods. "And the rest?"
I open one of the counter drawers and rifle around in there until I find what I'm looking for: the receipt for when I last purchased coal only a few weeks ago. In the Seam, we keep receipts for everything. You never know when you'll have to prove that something is yours. I hold it out to her as proof. "Is that good enough for you?"
She scans it briefly. "And you've been paying this since your father got fired?"
I'm not surprised that she knows about my father's termination. It's fairly common in Twelve. "I have." I don't need to tell her about the chits that my mother's clients had been paying me and my mother in trade for healing. It's not like it's made that much of a difference.
"Twenty five," Jacintha says, handing me back the receipt. "That is honestly as low as I can go." I start to protest, but she holds up a hand. "No. I mean it. I got paid ten coin a day to take care of the Mayor's wife. My father will not accept lower from our lone Victor. In fact, because of you, he's going to expect higher."
"Is this true?" I turn to Chet. I don't fully trust Peeta's brother, but I trust him more than I trust my cousin.
"I can vouch that she got paid ten coin a day by the Mayor," he answers. "She knows her father better than I do, but it feels in character for him."
"Oh for goodness' sake, Katniss, stop bargaining!" Darius explodes, running a hand over his face. "We'll give you thirty."
"But she said twenty five!" I protest.
"Done," my cousin says.
"No, not done! This is between you and me! Dari—Peacekeeper Freeman has nothing to do with this! I'm the one who's paying you, not him."
My cousin meets my eyes. "I don't care who pays me as long as I have a valid excuse to save your ass. If you're too stubborn to save your own ass, at least you've got somebody else looking out for you." She smiles sweetly at Darius. "Thank you. We have a deal."
Darius reaches into his uniform and pulls out three bills. "Would this help sell the pretense?"
Her eyes light up. "Paper money? You better believe it."
He nods and offers it to Jacintha.
I block his hand. "I'm not letting you pay this for us."
"You can pay me the twenty five that you were going to agree upon. Consider the extra five as compensation for my not doing more for your mother."
Chet slowly raises his hand. "Um, while we're being honest here, I still owe Katniss here for those poppies and the rest of the herbs."
Jacintha whirls on her husband. "What are you talking about?"
"So… you remember how I told you that we came into some extra poppies and belladonna and foxglove?"
"...Yes."
"And you used the foxglove and the belladonna on—" he lists off a bunch of Merchants whose names all run together.
"I do," she says warily.
"And you know how your father was so excited over those poppies..." Chet trails off, giving his wife a pointed look.
Once again, the color drains from Jacintha's face.
"Those came from Katniss," Chet finishes, rubbing the back of his neck.
"That's right, and if you're not going to pay me what was promised, I want them back. I could sell them to people in the Hob or use them myself." If anything, my cousin goes even paler. I'm confused as to why. My threat isn't that big. I have no idea how to use half of the herbs that my mother has, and selling them in the Hob would get me nothing. But she seems to think it's a bigger threat than it actually is, and so I run with it. "I only gave them to Chet to sell because I needed the money. I still need the money."
"I—I—" Jacintha stutters. "I have to have coin for this charade." She glances at Darius's hand, still held out. "Or paper money."
"And are you saying that someone as intelligent as you would be so short-sighted as to not set aside a nest egg?" I say, turning her words against her. "Let me pay you the compliment of stating that I don't believe you're that short-sighted."
"Are you really doing this?" Peeta and Darius ask in unison, and then glare at each other.
But the color returns to my cousin's cheeks, and she bursts out laughing. "I like you. You remind me of myself. We're definitely related. So what do you want?"
"You pay half, and I pay half. If Darius is paying you thirty coin, then fifteen of that comes back to me."
Jacintha crosses her arms over her stomach. It looks awkward. "How am I going to explain the missing fifteen to my parents?"
"Not my problem." At her raised eyebrow, I add, "I wasn't lying. I'm certain you have a nest egg. If I have to pay fifteen coin for this charade, then you've got to pay fifteen coin as well."
"And we get to keep those herbs."
"Yes." I can tell she's wavering, so I say, "And to sweeten the deal, I'll even give you the remaining herbs that my mother has that I have no intention of using."
"Done," she says extremely quickly so I have no time to change my mind.
"And done." I stop blocking Darius's hand so she can take his paper money. "Now," I say, stepping back and turning to Darius, "let me get you your money."
"Damn it, Katniss, I don't want your money!"
Our front door opens, and Prim and Aven step inside. All of us freeze, staring at them.
My siblings stare back.
"Um…" Prim says, her voice unsure, "did we come at a bad time?"
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AN:
Written: 10/17/21
Revised: 11/5/22
Hi! Welcome to complication city, population Panem.
So Jacintha has reasons for everything she's doing. You'll find out a lot of what those are later on. Look, we like to foreshadow. All the foreshadowing. We learned foreshadowing from the masters… J. Michael Straczynski, Greg Weisman, and even Agatha Christie. And we like to take what we learned and add it in here. TBH a bunch have you been getting super close to what we've been hinting at, but so far no one's quite put all the clues together. You all are smart! And we've been super happy that some of you are starting to see where we're heading… you haven't put all of it together, though. *Cackles evilly*
You can get more information about our original writing here at Rose Lark Publishing.
Let us know what you think! Your reviews inspire us to write more. This is especially true with fic. Since we don't get paid for this. ^_^ To those who do review, you're the reason we haven't abandoned our fics. We love you.
Until next time! Thanks for reading!